For the Memories
by katnip everdeen
Summary: After Finnick's death, Annie has trouble coping and is forced into "flashback theraphy" in which she relives her lifetime with Finnick, the boy from the sea. The boy who she lost.R&R! Xx Cresdair.


Chapter one

"Mrs Odair."

I stare blankly across the room, ignoring the man who states my name loudly and clearly.

"Mrs Odair I need to talk to you about your late husband."

Silence.

My eyes are fixed, glazed. They burn into the other side of the room. Locked limbs refuse to budge; altogether I am motionless.

The man in front of me sighs a little hopelessly.

"Take a seat, Mrs Odair." He smiles a little, and I can decide if his voice is warm or creepy. "Could I call you Annie. Or is Anne okay?"

_No_.

You can't call me Anne.

_Only Finn can call me Anne._

_Finn._

My body and brain screams at the mention of his name, but I can't let it show on my face. So I keep myself plain, blank and unreadable.

"Annie. Is . Fine." I state crisply, diction perfect, voice dull and emotionless.

"Wonderful!" He exclaims far too cheerfully, clapping his hands together as sat down on rigid brown armchair. "My name is Jon. I'll be your therapist over the next few weeks."

Internally, I glare at Jon. _Therapist._ Oh, how many of those I have had in the past. Looking at me. Fancy, stupid capitol people with high pitched voices drinking tea and pretending they know everything about me just from looking at some report.

None of them did any good. And I hated every. Single. One.

Jon sighs, and cheerfully sets about pouring a cup of tea. Then, he tries to talk to me again, in a low, soft voice. The voice you use to talk to frightened animals, or special, hopeless cases.

"Sit down, Annie. Have a drink."

_Great_. I snarl in my head. Now I am a hopeless case.

I just want to get it over with, so I plant myself down on the chair. Squirming a little, I asses the situation. Soft, plush chair. So perfectly squishy that it should be comfortable. But it isn't. You just feel like you are drowning in pillows. Green, sickly coloured pillows.

All of a sudden the flash of green overwhelms me. Then I am on a beach, surrounded by shells and ropes. I am laughing. The sea licks my toes and I see his eyes so clearly. Bright, radiant green. Green.

Green is now everything. Then black.

I wake up to a grinning Jon. I am still perched in the chair, only now I have a blanket and a cup of tea on my lap.

I try not to appear startled as I ask, fairly blandly. "What happened?"

Jon bends down to look at me. I bore into his gaze, and for one second I want to scream and hug him, because it is finnick, smooth reddy coloured hair and green, green eyes. But I look again, and Jon's eyes are brown, matching his hair and chair. Young, easy on the eyes. But not Finnick. Never Finnick.

My lip trembles a little.

"I think you were a little shocked and fainted. But we can help that. You won't be here for long. We just need to have a few little chats, and then you can get home to district 12."

Allowing my brow to dent a little, I feel confused. Angry. Proud. Then, as usual, nothing.

"My home is not district 12." I say.

"Really? Then would you like to tell me where you do live?"

"I live in district 4." I say. Simple statements. No expression.

Jon breaths a little deeper, veiling any frustration.

"I need you to talk to me about home. About district 4."

Everything around me seems to have been swallowed by fish, and beaches, and swimming. But I cannot think like that. I won't.

"What do you like about your district?" beams Jon, trying to liven me up, He is doing a terrible job of it.

No response.

Silence.

The wind whistling in the curtains.

Jon repeats the question.

Silence.

Pause.

"I liked the sea."

"You did?" questions Jon in that soft, special voice again. I hate feeling patronized. I want to scream and kick and show him that I can speak. I can run. I can do so many things.

But I won't show any of them ever again.

_I will never _love_ again._

_Never._

"What else did you like."

I mull over the idea of responding, but it doesn't appeal to me. Instead I sit obstinately, not replying. Not complying.

"You're not going to answer me, are you Miss Odair.?" Jon says, showing his exasperation now. But as well as exasperation, he looks a little sad.

I shake my head.

"I didn't want it to come to this." He half whispers, stepping nearer to me, like a lion stalking its prey. A terrible metaphor, but its all that fills my head as he approaches me, gaining, moving in. He is almost touching me now, and flight isn't an option.

Physiologically, I am his prey.

"Annie, we are going to enter flash back mode. This means we study your past directly through you. Your memories, that is."

He is going to invade my thoughts.

NO.

_NO._

No.

_Please no._

_Finnick don't let this happen to me._

Oh yeah, right. You're dead. You can't help me.

No one can.

Jon presses his fingers to my skull, catching his stubby fingers in my ringlets. I feel some sort of chip being inserted, and I am about to scream when Jon blocks my mouth and hisses into my ear.

"Annie, we need you to remember how you met your husband."


End file.
